


When The Shadows Fall Behind You

by QueenTheatrics



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous use of metaphors, This is a love story, because goddamn amy santiago loves jake peralta, post-Season 1, seriously someone stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:12:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6713716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTheatrics/pseuds/QueenTheatrics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake comes back from the Mob different. Not bad-different, but not good-different, either. Just different. She doesn't know whether to be worried or relieved.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Amy Santiago loves Jake Peralta a whole goddamn lot and we don't talk about it enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Shadows Fall Behind You

**Author's Note:**

> I started this right after the season 1 finale and then put it aside (for like two years yeah I know) but after the season 3 finale a few weeks ago I finally had the motivation to finish it even though it's not really canon compliant anymore. I wanted to write something about Amy because everyone in the show focuses so much on how Jake feels about Amy (especially around season 1/2) and not so much the other way around.

He comes back different. Not bad-different, but not good-different, either. Just different. She doesn't know whether to be worried or relieved. 

There's a harder set to his jaw, an edge in his eyes that wasn't there before (she makes herself sick wondering what put it there), a newfound limp and, undoubtedly, several shiny new scars. 

He still laughs loud, bursts into every room like morning sunlight, and nothing, not even a stint with the Mob, could do anything to dim his glow. But there's a hesitance, like someone had tried. Her fingers itch with the need to find out who it was and make them regret it, and uncharacteristic thoughts like these shock her to her core. Everything he said to her before he left circles in her mind like a tornado, except instead of leaving destruction in its wake, she just feels more confused. 

He corners her in the file room not long after he's back, and he looks at her with eyes that are hopeful and warm and very, very sad.   
"I heard you and Teddy broke up last month," he starts, softly, and then backtracks. "I have no expectations, just so you know. I'm here as a friend."  
"Thank you, Jake," she says. There's a quiet moment, broken only by the rustle of papers. She suddenly scoffs, and turns to him. "You know why he broke up with me?"   
He looks wary, but indicates that she should continue.   
"Because of you." She frowns. "And not even because of what you told me me before you left. I was just so _worried_ about you, all the time, and Teddy didn't know you were undercover, and he kept saying mean things about you, and apparently it's not a good idea to talk constantly about your supposedly disgraced ex-partner to your current boyfriend. Who knew, right?"  
He tries to laugh along with her, but there are tears in her eyes.   
"He said that I obviously had some 'unresolved issues' about our relationship," she continues, indicating between them. "God, he doesn't even know the half of it."  
"I'm sorry, Amy," he says quietly, and she hates that his voice sounds like that, hates that it's because of _her_. But everything she's been thinking for so long is bubbling up inside her, threatening to burst, and even the moon is loathe to stem the tide.  
"He tried to call me when you came back last week, you know. He left a message. He wanted to try and 'fix' our relationship, since I was 'clearly hung up on you because you were undercover'. He apologised so many times for not being supportive. He was so _nice_ and so _kind,_ and I never even called him back. Does that make me a terrible person?"   
She's really crying now, though she couldn't tell anyone why. It just feels so good to finally say all these things, to say everything to _him_ , and have him there and tangible and real and breathing.  
He hesitates, debating internally, and then he wraps his arms around her so she can press her face into his chest.   
"You're the best person I know, Ames," he breathes into her hair. "He's clearly an idiot, especially for saying mean things about me." Her laugh vibrates through his ribcage. "No, seriously, what did he say? That I'm a devastatingly handsome bad boy with a penchant for trouble?"  
"He called you unprofessional." She says, smiling. He has the good grace to look offended at first, but then has to shrug.   
"I mean, that's pretty much a given at this point. I'm actually disappointed he couldn't come up with something more original."  
"He said your car was obviously compensating for something." She pulls back far enough to see the shocked expression on his face.   
"Now, that's just uncalled for!" He says, and they both laugh. "Seriously though, he doesn't deserve you. You can be pretty cool when you're not correcting my spelling and grammar."  
She recognises an out when she sees one, and feels a wave of gratitude.   
"I only do that so Holt won't yell at you for mixing up your there's and your's!" She counters, falling back into their banter easily.   
"You know, in the _mob_ they don't care about grammar," He grins, like he's stumped her with that one.   
"And I'm sure grammar is now their top priority in a maximum security prison." Her voice drips with sarcasm, and for a moment they just stand, grinning at each other in the half darkness. The lightbulb above them is flickering, just slightly. She feels like she's in The Matrix.  
"So..." He says, after a few seconds, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I guess we should maybe talk about... What I said. Before I left. Y'know, with the confessions and the romantic-stylez-"  
"I am aware, Jake, I was there, too." She cuts him off, but her tone is kind. "I'll be honest with you. I've thought about it a lot, and... I still don't know. I was so focused on you coming back _alive_ and now that you're here all I can think about is how much I missed my best friend. Can we just hit pause on everything and focus on getting that back first?"  
He looks a little sad, and she doesn't blame him, but his expression soon changes when he processes what she said.   
"Best friend?" He exclaims, grabbing her by the middle and swinging her around. "Take that, Kylie!" When he puts her down, he puts his hands on her shoulders and takes a long look at her face. It's sincere, and just a little uncomfortable, until he says, "I'm remapping your features onto my memory cortex. Meep-morp," in a robot voice, just to see her smile. He swipes his thumbs underneath her eyes and wipes away the last few tears on her cheeks, and she can feel the hot trail his fingers have left burning under her skin. His face softens after a moment and he steps back. "I had better get back to work now. Back to the ol' grindstone. After all, I got 99 problems, and all of them are files I need to fill out for that super dope undercover mission I went on." With a strange sort of half salute, he turns his back to her.   
"Hey, Jake?" She starts, and he looks over his shoulder. "I do still think about it. What you said. And I'm not saying never. Just not now."  
"So, just to clarify, am I the Sandy to your Danny?" He replies, and she knows he's teasing her, knows he's making light of a super awkward situation in the only way he knows how, and goddamn she missed him like breathing. So she gives the sass as good as she gets.  
"What, Sandra Dee, lousy with virginity?"   
He laughs, loud and long and free. "Hopelessly devoted to you," he says with a smirk, and isn't that like a punch to the chest.  
"You've seen Grease?" She says sceptically. Jake looks scandalised.   
"Everyone's seen Grease, Amy! It redefined musicals for a new generation!"  
Amy holds up her hands as he moves towards the door, but she calls him back before he can leave.   
"Give me a month?" She says, and he finally gives her a smile that isn't laced with teasing.   
"Aye aye, captain!" He says, saluting once more, and then the door swings shut behind him.

\--

In the end, it takes her almost six weeks to come to any sort of conclusion. Jake doesn't push her, but also doesn't give her any indication of further interest past their initial file room conversation, so when her decision is made, she's forced to take her problem to the last person she'd ever willingly ask for advice. She waits until Jake is in the break room having some sort of sugar loaded snack, and makes her move.   
"Gina, can I—?”  
"Noooooo," Gina counters immediately, eyes never leaving her magazine.   
"But I just—“   
"Amy Santiago, do you not understand the meaning of the word no?" Gina says seriously, finally looking up with earnest, menacing eyes. Amy purses her lips but bites back her retort.   
"It's about Jake."  
That gets Gina's attention. She puts down the magazine (face-up, fashion oriented, an article called _Snakeskin in Summer_ open and bookmarked), leans forward at her desk and tilts her chin up to indicate her clear and probably worrying interest. Amy suddenly regrets her choice of advice giver.   
"What's up, buttercup?" Gina's staring at her now, smirk firmly in place.   
"Do you think," Amy begins slowly. She chooses her words carefully. "That Jake would go out with me if I asked?" Not carefully enough. Gina looks _delighted_ and that is a terrifying prospect.   
"Oh, boo," she says, and she has the audacity to look sympathetic. "That boy would scale a mountain for you, if there were any in Brooklyn. He would literally attempt to eat his own hand if you asked, bones and all. He would _fail_ , of course, because that shiz is straight up rid _onkulous_ , but do not doubt that he would try extremely hard."  
"But you think he'd say yes to dinner and a movie?" Amy says, moving swiftly past whatever Gina just tried to tell her.   
"Ames, Amy, Amelia Roberta Santiago," Gina reaches forward and grabs both of Amy's hands in her own. "As your officially sanctioned love guru, I am telling you to take that boy to funky town soon, because I cannot take one more minute of you two making melty gummy bear eyes at each other." A pause, in which all Amy can do is look confused. "It's sweet and sickening and highly unpleasant for those not involved." Gina clarifies, before ordering Amy away from her desk, claiming that her bad dressing is messing up her aura. 

\--

One by one that evening, the other 99 team members leave for home, until it's only Amy and Jake left. There's an energy in the room, a low level hum of tension that she can't quite tell what brand it is. Jake looks up at her for a moment and smiles, then licks his lips and looks back at his file. Her eyes drop to his mouth and it's like a warm punch to the gut. So _that's_ what brand it is.   
"You okay, Amy?" He asks a few minutes later when he catches her still staring at him. That's another thing that's different since he got back - no more _Santiago_ , no more _Detective Bossypants_ , no more _Teacher's Pet_ or _Kiss-Ass_ or _Crazy Massive Suck-up_. Just Amy, and occasionally Ames, when he's feeling daring or he's had a few drinks. She likes it. She just wonders sometimes about why he's suddenly stopped making terrible puns with her name (granted, not a lot of words rhyme with Santiago).  
"Uhhh, yeah!" She replies, far too chipper for hour twelve of a ten hour shift. He notices, of course, because he's Jake, and Amy's many things but subtle's never been one of them. She can feel her palms begin to sweat as his eyes bore into her, concern gathering between his eyebrows. "I just, uh." Mentally, she kicks herself. And also a little bit physically, apparently, because her heel painfully connects with her shinbone all of a sudden. "Do you want to have dinner with me?" Her words tumble out, but don't elicit quite the response she expected.   
"Yeah, sure," he says, picking up his phone. "You want Chinese or Indian?"  
"No, I mean like in a restaurant." She tries again, attempting to put as much meaning into her words as possible. Still nothing. He frowns.   
"Takeout would probably be easier if we're working," His eyes are still on his phone, searching takeout numbers.   
"Jake." She says, and something in her tone makes him look up. "Do you want to have dinner with me, some other time, in a restaurant? Like a date. Like a romantic-styles date type situation."   
He's silent for a painfully long time. So long that Amy begins to worry that she's broken him. But then a grin spreads over his face and she feels a wave of relief crash over her.   
"You have a crush on me, Amy Santiago!" He shouts, pointing straight at her with an expression of glee.   
"And I'm seriously rethinking that crush right now!" She says, attempting to keep a straight face, but her smile betrays her. Jake is looking at her like she's the sun, and she finds herself unable to breathe with it, like the force of her happiness has knocked the air out of her chest. 

They don't get to go to a restaurant for several weeks, because they're both too dedicated to their jobs and crime doesn't stop in New York City just because it's dinner time. That doesn't mean they don't go on dates - there's coffee and food truck lunches and breakfasts at their desks and once (just _once_ , because Amy can be fun but she's not an _animal_ ) they have a candy tasting competition in the break room. Jake shows up at her apartment every other night, sometimes with take out, other times with a grocery bag and a recipe, and his presence in her kitchen (and her home and her _life)_ becomes something grounding, a constant like the sunrise. Every day that dawns is a new one to spend with him, and he may look at her like _she's_ the sun but he's the one who is filled with light.

They keep it to themselves a lot longer than they expected to, because there's just something so warm and safe about the bubble. The Captain knows, of course, because he's one of the greatest officers New York has ever seen (Jake's words, not Holt's) but also because Jake accidentally lets it slip while trying to bond with him. Later, Kevin insists they come over for dinner, and Amy hyperventilates. Jake doesn't tell anyone except Amy, but something strange yet not entirely unwelcome, a feeling like a kind of homecoming, blossoms in his sternum at the invitation. In return, she presses a hand to his cheek and smiles at him like he hung the moon. When they finally tell the rest of the team, Charles cries. Terry doesn't seem to know who to give the "if you hurt my kid, I'll hunt you down and kill you" speech to, so settles for giving it to them both at the same time, changing pronouns as appropriate. Hitchcock and Scully are disappointed the announcement isn't accompanied by food. Rosa and Gina stand in the corner, smirking, and Amy doesn't want to know what Gina whispers to force a rare laugh out of Rosa.

For all that he makes it out to be the greatest case of his life, he doesn't talk a lot about being undercover. She gets bits and pieces, snippets that she strings together in her mind like she's sewing a quilt, but she never gets the whole story, and that scares her. It scares her that there's a part of him she doesn't know, a part that's been corrupted by the time he spent suppressing himself, a part that seems dark and cold and as far from Jake Peralta as its possible to be. But then he tells her one day, the whole story, and the darkness doesn't seems as frightening. He tells her everything with a warmth in his voice, like the cold has been long since banished, and she's mad at herself for thinking that Jake could ever run at any temperature but red hot.

He comes back completely different, but entirely the same. He's still Jake, _her_ Jake, with eyes like firecrackers and fingers that make her skin burn when he touches her. He still smiles wide, he still glows so hard she's almost blinded, and she still loves him. She loves him. She _loves_ him, and she tells him every day, because six months was agony for her when she only thought she wanted him, so she can't imagine how it must have been for him, knowing he wanted her with all his steadfast certainty. 

Things are still difficult sometimes, because the moon can control the tides but it can't control the sun, and Amy worries they'll be knocked too far out of orbit to sync up again. Jake is a mess of trust issues and emotional repression, and sometimes he burns so hot she has to pull back lest she scald her fingers. She can’t say she’s much better, because with seven brothers she’s always been overlooked, and now she has someone who looks at her like she's the centre of everything, and it’s almost too much to bear. She has to run slightly cooler than Jake because her need for approval is all consuming and Jake would let her take and take and take until he had nothing left to give.

And yet, they work. Jake had a shitty excuse for a father and six months in the mob, but somehow defies the influence of both. Amy’s biased but she thinks Jake is the best person she knows, because she's never seen someone give so much and love so fiercely as the man she’s chosen as hers. Jake Peralta is a gift, a kind, loving gift wrapped in leather and sarcasm, and she’s never quite sure what she did to deserve him.

They both get sad sometimes, and mad sometimes, and definitely scared a lot of the time. Being a cop and dating a cop means the scary situations are doubled and heightened, and sometimes she wonders if it’s all worth it. But sometimes he looks at her with a quiet smile, and his shoulders drop like he’s exhaling a prayer. It’s calm and sincere like a warm dusky sunset, and Amy would give everything she has to see that smile never leave his face.


End file.
